Songs of the Heart
by Alle Meine Entchen
Summary: Modern P&P oneshot from Darcy's point of view. First sighting of E and the aftermath of the proposal


A/N: I don't own the songs (Paralyzer by Finger Eleven or She Hates Me by Puddle of Mudd) but they did inspire this little fic. My thanks to Ruledbysecrecy for turning this into something that resembles a real, understandable story.

Songs of the Heart

_I want to make you move_

_Because you're standing still_

_If your body matches_

_What your eyes can do_

_You'll probably move right through_

_Me on my way to you _

_I'm not paralyzed_

_But, I seem to be struck by you_

_I want to make you move_

_Because you're standing still_

_If your body matches_

_What your eyes can do_

_You'll probably move right through_

_Me on my way to you_

Fitzwilliam Darcy, CEO of Pemberley Inc and one of People's 50 most eligible bachelors stood by the bar armed with a drink. He hated going to bars, especially those picked by his best friend Charles Bingley or his cousin Richard. They habitually chose chipper bars, and after what nearly happened to his sister 3 months ago, Darcy was feeling anything but chipper.

He stood on the sidelines watching a girl- a woman, really- on the dance floor. She was dancing alone, each move displaying her confidence, something he could never feel when he danced to such up-beat music. Her long, curly brown hair spilled gracefully over her shoulder and accentuated her tight red top. He gripped his drink tighter as he watched her flash a smile at an unknown person. He felt something in his gut, something that felt like jealousy, but why would he be jealous of an unknown woman? She was nothing to him, just a graceful dancer in the crowd.

Darcy scanned the crowd again. After seeing him with a drink, his friend Bingley left to find his 'angelic' girlfriend, Jane. Bingley was supposed to bring her over to meet him, but Darcy knew better than to expect him to return immediately. The club was crowded, far too crowded for Bingley to navigate with ease. Also, Bingley was flighty- he was easily distracted by disco balls, new drinks, and pretty girls.

Darcy saw Bingley wave- he had finally caught sight of his introverted friend. He wanted Darcy to meet his angel. Darcy reluctantly left his spot and slowly made his way down. It was always like this: Bingley would meet a "nice" girl who held his attention for a few weeks before stomping on his heart. At that point, Darcy became the one who would pick up the pieces. The process had become exasperating. This time, Darcy was determined not to let his friend become heartbroken over one of the many million gold diggers.

Having been introduced to a woman named Jane (too plain for her face, he mused) he tried to remove himself from the club. He was tired and had an early meeting in the morning, unlike Bingley. Bingley, of course, would not hear of him leaving early until he at least danced one dance. Bingley had a girl in mind. Jane's sister had come to the club to meet her sister's new beau. She would be just the girl for him to dance with, Bingley had decided.

With a glance over his shoulder, Darcy noticed the girl Bingley wanted him to dance with- the girl he had seen dancing by herself, the brunette in red. His body burned for her attention, but he was unwilling for his friend to find out. Bingley was an easy-going man, but he had developed a bad habit that he had picked up from his cousin, Richard Fitzwilliam. Anytime they discerned any signs of regard for a woman, they would tease him mercilessly. Or worse, Richard would try and steal the girl. They had been in competition for women for as long as they were old enough to chase skirts.

Darcy had learnt one way of getting Bingley and Richard off his back. He would deny that any girl held any sort of interest for him. Then the poor woman under suspicion would lose any appeal for Richard, and if he insulted the girl properly and harshly, Bingley would back off as well. This was the route Darcy usually chose. Most of the girls Darcy met at these clubs he knew he would never see again.

Darcy didn't want to listen to a teasing Bingley tonight. His sister Gee was still having nightmares caused by the slime Wickham, he had an early meeting (his definition of early, 7am, not Bingley's which was 10am) and he did not want to dance with "Lizzy". She was beautiful and confident, but what were the chances he would ever see her again? Charles and Jane would break up, and he move onto the next girl within the month. He tried to think of an appropriate insult that would cause peace-loving Bingley to back off.

"Darcy, aren't you going to dance? Jane's sister, Lizzy, is really nice and she can dance" Bingley was extremely predictable in his plea.

"That old cow? Next time you try to introduce me to a so called 'pretty girl' make sure she's not some dried up old maid", he snarled, inwardly smiling as he counted his victory. Darcy swallowed his drink and stalked towards the exit. He thought he would get plenty of sleep tonight. He could not, with Lizzy Bennet in his mind that night.

Lizzy Bennet grew to be a bigger problem than he could have ever fathomed. He could not get her off his mind. Every time he heard the song she was dancing to in the club (which was playing everywhere he went, he found) he thought about her, about the way her top fit so well, the way she danced… he found himself sounding like Charles in his mind. His good friend had strayed from his usual pattern, to his dismay. He was in love with Jane Bennet, which meant Darcy saw a lot more of Lizzy Bennet than he wanted to. He could not deny the truth from himself. He had fallen head over heals in love with her. She was smart and fun. She wasn't just some airheaded bimbo; she was a lawyer. She worked hard and they had some fun debates on current events. Whenever Darcy met her, he saw something else to admire…

Like the time Jane became sick. She had an allergic reaction to something in the food (the smirk on Caroline's face made it clear to Darcy that she knew what the allergy was). Lizzy came, all the way from her home to where they were, just to hold Jane's hair as she threw up. If that wasn't sisterly love, Darcy didn't know what was. While Jane was sleeping, Darcy would try to talk with her. She wasn't some club hopping bimbo, she was an intelligent woman (he tried to think of her as a girl, he tried to convince himself he was too old for her, she was too young) who often held her own against him, something not many could do. By the time she and her sister left, he was dreaming about her.

He knew he could not allow himself to be caught. He had responsibilities, jobs, families, and his sister to consider. As soon as he could, he left and never looked back. The dreams continued, leaving him to wake up gasping and sweaty. He convinced himself that a dream woman was not the same as the real thing. The real Elizabeth Bennet had flaws; was imperfect. The dream Elizabeth Bennet was perfect, flawless and that was the difference.

Several months went by; he thought he had finally conquered this obsession with her. Darcy finally felt he was over her. His efforts were challenged when, on his annual visit to his elderly aunt, he found out that his aunt's caretaker was none other than Charlotte Lucas, Elizabeth Bennet's best friend. He saw Lizzy again when he went to do some work for his Aunt Catherine. She required Darcy's help and would not allow him to do the work from his home via the internet. If he did that then he would not be in close contact with her niece. Darcy's aunt had decided a long time ago that he was to marry her husband's sister's daughter. Anne was not related by blood, but she is still his aunt's niece and that was too close of a relation for him. Also, Anne has no spirit. She's a colorless being, like the wallpaper in his aunt's house. Knowing what he knew about his aunt's delusions, he brought Richard along.

The visit was an annual event. He would come, make sure the new caretaker was behaving him/herself and taking care of his aunt. He had once tried to speak of setting up security cameras throughout the house so he could check up on at his leisure from home, but she did not put much stock in new fangled technology. He was pleasantly surprised when he found out whom the new caretaker was and that she had invited company. His Elizabeth was near him once again and his blood boiled with passion when he was near her.

The nature of his business brought him closer (he thought) to Lizzy. They often debated on the merits of their work, whether or not they were making a difference in the world or not. They again debated on current events, how the political leaders were doing, if they were living up to campaign promises or no. Darcy's admiration grew each day.

During the visit, he discovered many things. Some were pleasant discoveries, Elizabeth preferred to be called "Lizzy" and she had a weakness for chocolate and strawberries (here Darcy fantasized about the many ways he could introduce chocolate covered strawberries to her).

His favorite discovery happened quite by accident. One night he woke from a particularly vivid dream and sleep evaded him. He threw on a pair of pajama bottoms, slippers and padded downstairs. He vaguely noted the time on the clock on his nightstand as he left, which is why he wondered why he heard music coming from the parlor (as he aunt insisted it be called) so early in the morning. Slowly creeping to the parlor he saw her. Lizzy was dancing by herself, slowly and sensually moving her body in ways he'd only dreamt about since that first night at the club. He couldn't move, he couldn't breathe: he was entirely focused on drinking in the sight of her dancing by herself in the moonlight. After an undetermined amount of time, he forced himself to go back to his room. He knew he would not be getting any more sleep. As he replayed over and over the image of her dancing, he realized, he loved her and could not live without her.

One thing they had in common was jogging. They both were athletic people. He found out where she ran and what time she ran so he could run with her. It often did him no good to run with her, the sweat drip down her body proved to be too distracting. He often had to cool off with a cold shower after his runs, which made him grumpier while in the confines of his aunt's breakfast room. That room, incidentally, was the only room he saw Anne. He had become through the years quite adept at making excuses to work late to avoid his cousin by marriage and her aunt's insistence they marry.

The only thing more disturbing than Aunt Catherine trying to force him into marrying Anne was how Anne relentlessly threw herself at him. He shuddered at the memory of her trying to seduce him when he was 16 and she 14. The neon pink nightie had not been a good idea. It made her skin an even more sallow, sickly shade and did nothing to highlight any of her "assets", if it could be considered she had any. The ensuing years had not been kind to Anne for she still had the figure of a child and believing his Aunt Catherine, never dated moreover did not have the maturity he needed in a wife; his partner in life. Since then, he became adept at locking his door and windows.

Some discoveries, though, were not so pleasant. One night he overheard her telling Charlotte how Jane, her sister, was heartbroken because of Charles. If he had stayed longer, he would have heard how Lizzy thought he was an egotistical monster who liked to order people around, like pieces on a chessboard.

He rolled over on his stomach and smiled, thinking of all the times they had met and the conversations and debates they had. He knew he _had_ to propose to her. The only way to stop the dreams and the image of her dancing out of his head was to have the real life Lizzy Bennet replace it. He would find her alone today, at a time much more suited for romance, and propose. Maybe he could even talk her into a short engagement. He smiled to himself as he shifted back onto his back, placing his hands behind his head and dreamt of the life he was going to have with his Lizzy Darcy.

_She f hates me_

_La la la love_

_I tried too hard_

_And she tore my feelings like I had none_

_And ripped them away_

_She was queen for about an hour_

_After that s got sour_

_She took all I ever had_

_No sign of guilt_

_No feeling of bad, no_

_That's my story, as you see_

_Learned my lesson and so did she_

_Now it's over and I'm glad _

_'cause I'm a fool for all I've said_

She had rejected him! How could she reject him? He has everything a woman could want. He's rich, has many homes, and one of People's 50 most handsome bachelors. What more could a woman want?

Darcy knew he was worrying Gee. He overheard her talking to Richard on the phone. His urge to listen to Puddle of Mudd's She Hates Me worried her. She just doesn't understand how the song speaks to him. He did think that everything was going so well. Darcy thought she understood him, she was _his_ Lizzy in his mind, but she was never anyone's Lizzy. He laughed, mirthlessly, she didn't even know he liked her let alone loved her. He thought he was being so obvious. Richard had even picked up Darcy's liking her.

Thinking of marriage, Darcy winced as he unconsciously thought of how he proposed to Lizzy. It all started off so well…

"_In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you." _

_From there it had gone down hill, "I know you've been eagerly awaiting my proposal, though I know shouldn't propose. How could one as important as I align myself with a family such as yours: a drunken mother, two very fast sisters and a father who neglects his children. But none of that matters. I love you. I beg you to relieve my suffering and consent to be my wife. We'll marry in 3 months at the church my parents were married in." _

_At this point, Darcy moved towards her and pulled her into his arms, attempting to kiss his new fiancée for the first time, or so he believed. No sooner had he pulled her into his arms than she slapped him, hard. Releasing her so he could move a hand to cover where she had slapped him, he moved back stunned. He was confused. This was not how he had planned it. She was supposed to be grateful he had even noticed her. She was supposed to accept him with open arms and agree to anything he said. Isn't that women in love did?_

Looking back at how clueless he had been about women, Darcy laughed mirthlessly. What he knew about women could not even fill a thimble, but at the time, he thought himself to be quite experienced. His "experience" caused him to gasp in shock as Lizzy gave him his answer: "You are the last man in the world I would ever agree to marry. You broke Jane's heart and you ruined George's career. How could I marry a monster like you?"

Staggering as if he had imbibed more wine than necessary with dinner, Darcy had left the room, leaving behind his heart. The gaping hole in his chest had hurt, denying him sleep. Having finished what he had come for, he had packed quickly, only pausing to write Lizzy a letter. Although letters were considered old fashioned, it helped his heart to know that maybe, just maybe, she would keep it and she would forever have something of his.

Thinking back on the letter, he acknowledged it wasn't the best way to express himself. His cheek still burned from where she had slapped him (a part of him thrilled that he had chosen a woman who did not fawn or agree to anything he said. Independence was always a big turn on for him). He hoped she had thrown it away, shredded it, or burned it. He detailed how George Wickham was a petty thief growing up and how his thievery had only grown more daring as he grew older. How his father had given him a job, only for Darcy to find out, after his death how George had been embezzling money almost from day one on the job.

His breath hitched as he thought of the next part. He would forever be grateful for the incessant thought that he needed to go home. The thought that he should go home mid-week instead of the weekend had saved Gee, his sister. He had come home to surprise her, but she wasn't practicing as she usually did. He had searched all of Pemberley and when he finally found her, she wasn't alone. George Wickham was on top of her, poised to do the worst thing a man could do to an innocent young woman. Darcy had lost his temper and a fight ensued. Darcy had won, but at what cost? The scum was still out terrorizing women, his sister was in therapy and he had nightmares of what would have happened had he not come home or had come home later than he did.

Darcy could only hope that Lizzy read his letter and overlooked the bitterness, focusing simply on the message. He silently wished he could drink. He had gotten drunk the first 3 days after her refusal, but on seeing how it worried his sister, he had sworn to not drink over Lizzy Bennet any longer.

Light flooded the dark room. Bingley suddenly stood over Darcy. "I'm going to do for you the same favor you did for me. You are going to come to Hertfordshire with me and spend time with the Bennets'". Bingley dragged Darcy off the couch and all but threw him in his car for the ride.

Darcy was forever grateful to Bingley for dragging him off the couch and forcing him back to Hertfordshire. He no longer found the urge to listen to Puddle of Mudd's _'She Hates Me'_. He had somehow known Lizzy didn't hate him, that her feelings were in fact, quite the opposite.


End file.
